The Poisonous Spider
by avrovulcan
Summary: Napoleon has a surprise visitor. Originally written for the Picfic challenge on LJ.


Napoleon Solo strolled down the road to his apartment building and smiled with delight when he saw the platinum blonde leaning seductively against her immaculate silver sports car.

The scarlet silk dress clung in just the right places; showing off her slim figure to perfection, while a long split offered a tantalising glimpse of a shapely thigh. A cream mink stole completed the outfit and kept the chill of the evening at bay.

She smiled back, her eyes reflecting the same admiration in Napoleon's own.

"What a pleasure to see you, my dear. To what do I owe this honor?" Napoleon smiled.

"I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to see my favorite person," she purred.

"Well, you'd better come on in then, it's getting chilly out here."

"I thought you'd never ask."

The elegant couple entered the foyer of the building and, arm in arm, climbed the four flights up to his home.

Solo disabled the alarms and flicked a switch, immediately ambient lighting was activated; a standard lamp in the corner of the living room and a couple of strategically placed lamps glowed with a soft golden light, immediately creating a cosy atmosphere.

"Oh, very swish, you really are the great romantic, Napoleon."

"I had it installed with you in mind my darling."

Solo disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of champagne, handing one to his guest and placing his own on a nearby table.

He nuzzled her neck as he slowly removed the stole from her shoulders.

"Have I ever told you how much I adore this simply perfect neck?" He asked between kisses.

"Every time," she murmured, "and I never tire of it."

"You changed your perfume?"

The stole was dropped onto a chair and his now free hands roamed her body, as she explored him with her own.

"Mmmm, it's new, called 'Wonderland'. You like?"

"Very much so."

The dress was shed next, quickly followed by Napoleon's shirt; soon a trail of discarded clothes led from the living room to the bedroom, from where came the moans and groans of a couple reaching the heights of sensual pleasure.

They were exhausted but content; she lay comfortably in his arms as she trailed her fingers in lazy circles on his chest, he grabbed one and brought it up to his lips, planting a kiss on her fingers.

"Can you stay 'till morning?" Napoleon asked.

"I'm sorry, no. I'm expected back in …" she checked the time, "… three hours."

"That's a shame, maybe another time when you're in the neighborhood."

"Mmm, maybe."

She leaned up on her elbows and planted a lingering kiss on his lips.

"I have to go. Anyway, no doubt your Russian friend will be along soon anyway."

"True."

She rose from the bed and Solo watched her intently as she retrieved her clothes and dressed herself, looking immaculate once again.

Suddenly, he felt peculiar. His body feeling too heavy to support itself, sunk back into the pillows. He tried to raise a hand, but it wouldn't respond to his commands, even his toes wouldn't wiggle when he instructed them too. The only thing he could do was blink and move his eyes.

"Ahh, I see it has worked," the blonde walked into view, "it's only a small dose, it won't kill you…. Well not for a while anyway. There should be plenty of time to get the antidote into you. It's a new drug we've been developing, it paralyses you first, then after several hours your vitals start to shut down, if you administer the antidote before your heart stops it is all reversed and you'll be as good as new."

Solo sighed as he watched her walk away, well thought he sighed, and rolled his eyes, he knew just what Illya would say when he stopped by.

"Napoleon? Napoleon!"

Solo was jolted awake and wondered when he'd actually fallen asleep. He could hear Illya approaching, and soon his partner was standing in the doorway, a knowing look on his face when he saw Napoleon's predicament.

"Angelique?" Kuryakin asked.

He was holding a small bottle containing a pale blue liquid. Around its slender neck was a tag saying 'Drink Me'.

Napoleon could only nod his eyes in reply.

"One of these days you are not going to be so lucky. I do not know why you continue to dally with her."

Illya answered his own question when he looked into the American's eyes, "I know, you like the danger and excitement. I would have thought you have enough of that with our job."

Kuryakin helped lift Napoleon up to a sitting position. "I know your reply," he sighed "it is different with her."

He held the bottle up to the light, "I suppose it is safe to give you, she does seem to want you alive… mostly."

The Russian unscrewed the lid, then opening Solo's mouth, poured some of the liquid in.

"Feel anything?"

The American's eyes glazed over, then a few minutes later he started to cough.

"I take that as a good sign," Kuryakin said.

Solo started to convulse and Illya tried to keep him safe as he thrashed around on the bed. Finally he calmed and became still.

"Boy, that was scary," Napoleon croaked.

"I agree, glad you are back, it was getting boring having a one sided conversation."

Gingerly Napoleon sat back up, but his head spun so violently he lay back down.

"I'll get up when the room stops moving," he mumbled.

"I will be here when it does, my friend."

"Thank you Illya, I know I can always count on you."

"You are welcome, I just hope one day I am not too late when you have one of your dalliances with that poisonous spider."

Illya left the room and made himself comfortable in Napoleon's living room, ready to stay with his partner until he recovered.

"So do I, tovarisch," whispered Napoleon as he succumbed to sleep.


End file.
